


A Trip and Fall Down Memory Lane

by interstellaroverdrive



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Classic Rock Memorabilia, M/M, Phase Five (Gorillaz), murdoc resenting himself as usual, stu not knowing how to deal with murdoc's emotions, this one's kind of a downer but hey... there's banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 22:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19799422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellaroverdrive/pseuds/interstellaroverdrive
Summary: 2D reminisces about his old life. Murdoc can't contain his guilt. Takes place Phase 5, post-jailbreak.Content warning for some graphic descriptions of D-Day.





	A Trip and Fall Down Memory Lane

**Author's Note:**

> You ever just listen to the entire soundtrack of Luigi's Mansion (2001) while writing a dismal fic about your favorite ship? No? Just me? Okay.
> 
> (Content warning for some graphic descriptions of D-Day.)

* * *

The yellowed edges have ripped after decades of use, but the distressed Human League poster laid flat on 2D’s bedroom wall the same way it did in 10 year old Stuart’s room.

After securing the poster with enough tape, 2D continued rummaging through the cardboard box labelled ‘Music Memorabilia’. His sights landed on one of the few objects that weren’t wrapped up and protected with newspaper: an ornament in the shape of a black Fender, complete with fake guitar strings and a sticker of The Rolling Stones pasted on the pickguard.

2D wrapped his large fist around the long, thin guitar neck. There was a button on the back of the trinket that played the chorus to Satisfaction when pressed. When Stuart was 4, his mum purchased the ornament to hang up on the Christmas tree every year. The Christmas ornament was, essentially, his introduction to the Stones.

He pressed the button to see if the music would still play. Jagger’s voice came out smothered, yet shrill as Richards’ and Jones’ twangy guitars pierced 2D’s ears. It was nowhere near as pleasant as it had sounded when Stuart would put it up on the tree each December.

2D dropped the ornament onto his bed and covered his ears. The blood-curling music was quieter, but still unsettling to listen to.

The doorknob turned. 2D looked towards the door as it creaked open. Murdoc stood at the entrance, a puzzled expression on his face. The sight of him wearing a holey shirt and wrinkled jeans was ironic when 2D registered the frankincense cologne Murdoc had drenched himself in. 2D scrunched his nose at the overpowering scent, a wave of nausea clobbering him.

“What the hell is all that racket?” Murdoc asked loud enough for 2D to hear through covered ears. He noticed how 2D’s features had contorted in disgust from the cologne. “And fuck you, I smell fantastic!”

2D brushed off Murdoc’s last remark and nodded his head towards the ornament, the action making him feel more dizzy. He tried to ignore the pain while Murdoc’s eyes flickered to the miniature guitar.

The music emitting from it started to skip, the words “get no” repeating unforgivably. Jagger’s vocals dropped down to a low pitch along with the instruments, the song sounding more robotic than before. The audio slowed down and faded before it finally gave up and died away.

It was silent now. 2D lowered his arms down to his sides, his gaze focused on the ornament. The silence disappeared as Murdoc walked towards 2D’s bed, the floorboards creaking underneath his heavy footsteps. Murdoc picked up the ornament and pressed the button, only to find that the batteries had completely run out.

He ran the tip of his pointy fingernail along the plastic guitar strings. “It’s a wonder they’re still letting the Stones go on tour,” he quipped.

Murdoc frowned when he heard 2D cough violently. He glanced over and saw 2D covering his nose with his shirt, doing what he could to block the overbearing frankincense.

“I spritzed on some 75-dollar cologne to impress you,” Murdoc sneered, “And you don’t even appreciate my efforts?”

2D ignored him and scrambled towards the window, opening it up with vigor. He stuck his head out to get a breath of fresh air. The scent of petrichor from the dewy grass quelled his headache, though he wondered if it was only a placebo effect.

Regardless, he kept a tight grip on the windowsill, breathing in the damp autumn air and studying the pile of dead leaves that had developed beneath the maple tree. He could have sworn the heap wasn’t that big yesterday.

Several leaves from the pile scattered around the air after a draft blew in eastwards. A blast of cold air attacked 2D’s face. He drew his head back inside the room and lowered the window before his sensitivity to the cold could kick in. However, he left it open just a crack to air out the frankincense.

2D wondered what other things from his childhood would make him feel nostalgic again. He came to the center of the room again and knelt down in front of the box of music collectibles. On top of the hoard was a circular object wrapped in newspaper. 2D picked it up and removed the paper, unearthing a yellow frisbee from 1990 with the Devo logo printed in red—a gift that his parents had gotten him for his 12th birthday. There were a couple of cracks on it that had been hurriedly patched up with duct tape.

Murdoc sat next to 2D and looked at the toy. “A Devo frisbee?” he laughed, “Might wanna wear an energy dome helmet in case you get hit on the head.”

2D ran the pad of his thumb along the ridges of the disc. He remembered how his father used to take him down to the park so they could play frisbee together. David usually let him win.

“They weren’t as adamant about taking safety precautions back then as they are now,” 2D replied, his index finger now stroking the entire circumference of the frisbee. “You should know, we both survived the 70’s and 80’s.”

Murdoc scoffed. “Of course I know that,” he stuck his hands inside the box of musical relics to see what he could pull out, “And you weren’t even born until the late 70’s, so I’m the real champion here. I’ve got over a decade of life on you.”

2D set the frisbee aside and crossed his arms, watching Murdoc go through his old stuff. “Doesn’t show when it comes to emotional maturity, though.”

“You’re one to talk,” Murdoc scoffed. He turned to face 2D, pulling his hands away from the box to point a finger at him. “And you haven’t gotten to know Murdoc 2.0 yet,” he gave 2D the most piercing glare he muster, “I haven’t even been home for a week, and you left me to rot all day yesterday.”

2D sighed, picking up the frisbee again and setting it on his lap to fidget with the frayed edges of the duct tape. “Mum turned 65 yesterday. I wanted to visit her and celebrate her birthday, especially since I’ve not seen her in ages.”

“Well then _excuse me_ , mama’s boy,” Murdoc hissed as he went back to searching through 2D’s stuff. He widened his eyes when he came across a miniature Beach Boys surfboard with “Surfin’ USA” written across it, resting inside of a dented and wrinkled box. The figurine had been displayed before, but remained in good condition all these years.

Murdoc looked over at 2D again as he opened up the box. _“Oh_ , and one more thing,” he sneered, “you and I haven’t spent any quality time together ever since I came back.”

2D raised a brow up at him. “If this is your way of saying you’re dying for a shag—”

“No,” Murdoc interrupted, trying to remove the surfboard from the plastic mould after getting it out of the box. “Not that kind of quality time. But it’s inevitable we’ll get around to it eventually,” a smirk played at his lips. “Right, love?”

2D hid his amusement. “Turning down a go when it’s offered to you? My God, you really have changed,” he taunted Murdoc drily, watching as the other man struggled to get the surfboard out with his long nails.

2D reached over and grabbed the packaging from Murdoc, using his short nails to pry the board from the crumpled plastic. The surfboard sprang free from the mould. He stared at the knickknack up close, thinking back to its former place on the mantel back at his childhood home in Crawley. 2D stood up and surveyed his room, figuring out the best place to put the trinket on view.

Murdoc smirked when 2D turned away from him. “You were anticipating it, though. So I’d say you’re the one who’s dying for a shag.”

2D brushed that comment aside as he kept scanning his bedroom. He looked at the top of his bookshelf, which was filled with figurines, novels, and potted plants. There was still a bit of space left, so he decided to put the surfboard there.

He walked up to the bookshelf and looked at the purple zombie figurine he had bought around Halloween last year. Its arms were extended in front of itself as its tongue stuck out, hungry for a human brain. It wore tattered neutral-toned clothes, and one eye popped out of its head.

2D got an idea. He placed the Beach Boys surfboard so that the front was facing him, but angled it slightly to the left. After, he picked up the zombie figurine and placed it to the left of the surfboard. Now it looked ready to ride some waves.

He chuckled to himself as he stared at his creation. From afar, Murdoc’s eyes were trained on the zombie-surfboard arrangement. “Figure George Romero would’ve fancied a couple of ideas from you.”

2D came towards Murdoc, taking a seat next to him on the bed. “Well, I’ve taken a few film classes before. I could probably make a tropical zombie movie happen, even if it’s just a short film.”

Murdoc grimaced. “Fuck no, I’m not spending my hard-earned money on—”

2D cleared his throat and gave him an annoyed look. “Murdoc 2.0.”

“Right,” Murdoc replied knee jerk, a smirk etching at his lips. He raised the pitch of his voice to come off mockingly saccharine, wrapping his arm around 2D and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll support you and whatever you do, darling.”

2D held back a snicker. “No wonder you’re a natural actor,” he rested his hand on Murdoc’s knee, rubbing it gently, “you’re great at pretending.”

Murdoc understood that a little too well. He said nothing and just felt honoured that 2D was giving him physical affection.

They sat in silence. The wind outside gained momentum, slithering its way inside the room from the ajar window. 2D jolted from the biting cold on his bare skin, tightening his grip on Murdoc’s knee to get a hold of himself.

Amused, Murdoc held 2D closer and rubbed his arm up and down. 2D relaxed as he warmed up from the other’s touch. He stared out the window to see that more leaves from the pile had blown away.

The unusual peace and quiet ended abruptly when Murdoc asked, “So did Rachel have a good birthday?”

2D nodded. “She did. I got her some good gifts,” he boasted, running his fingers along the rough denim of Murdoc’s jeans, “Blue is her favourite colour, so I got her a bouquet of forget-me-nots and a sapphire necklace.”

2D kept his eyes trained outside of the window. Several grey clouds slowly crept their way in front of the sun, dimming the light inside the room. “We talked about old times. She got emotional about how much I’ve grown up, and she urged me to take all this stuff home with me,” he gestured to all the cardboard boxes on the floor, “Music collectibles, photo albums, the first keyboard my dad and I built together, and even his old clothes.”

“I see,” Murdoc watched as 2D knelt beside the box filled with David’s clothing, “So was I not invited to your mum’s because it’s too early in our 20-year relationship to meet each other’s folks?” he asked in a caustic manner.

2D opened up the cardboard box, trying not to roll his eyes. “Mum asked about you, actually.”

Murdoc raised his brows, leaning forward in his seat. “What’d she ask?”

A cockroach crawling from underneath the bed caught 2D off guard for a moment. He thought about laying his hand down on the carpet and letting the bug crawl onto his palm, so he could release it out the window. However, 2D decided against it and gave the cockroach silent permission to roam around.

2D picked up a plaid button-up shirt David used to wear, avoiding Murdoc’s eye as he spoke. “She asked in a grave tone, ‘Stuart, are you and him still…?’” he mirrored her voice to the best of his ability, remembering the distressed look in her eye. “And she trailed off after that.”

2D pursed his lips. He fidgeted with a button on one of the cuffs, hanging on a loose thread. “I said yes and she didn’t have any further comments or questions about it.”

Murdoc’s stomach turned. He looked away, having no further comments or questions about the topic at hand himself. He knew more than enough.

The cockroach from earlier sneaked closer and closer to 2D’s foot. It paused. After a second’s hesitation, it crawled back underneath the bed and didn’t come back out. More clouds blocked the sun, darkening the room as another draft blew in from the window. A chill ran up 2D’s spine.

“You know it’s not because we’re both blokes,” he reminded Murdoc quietly.

2D went through more of his father’s clothes to distract himself. The grey Ralph Lauren polo shirt, mahogany mohair jumper, and brown tweed trousers he picked up were all familiar to him. An amalgamation of metal, Castrol Edge motor oil, and sandalwood wafted in front of 2D. It felt like giving his father a hug after he came home from Crawley Auto Centre again. The thought of it made 2D tear up.

The knot deep in Murdoc’s gut twisted. His muscles tensed when he noticed how 2D’s eyes had turned glossy. “I know,” Murdoc replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

2D ended the conversation there and kept going through his father’s clothing. The nostalgia didn’t make him feel much better. He rubbed away his tears before neatly folding the clothes and putting them back inside the box. Between mourning for his father and the uncertainty that persisted between him and Murdoc for two decades, 2D didn’t want to make himself even more miserable today.

Murdoc kept his gaze trained on the unvacuumed floor. What was it like to have had a father who loved and cared for their child, supporting and guiding them towards the right path in life? He preferred not to think about it, but at least 2D knew the answer from his memories with David.

 _And at least you haven’t stolen that part of 2D’s old life away from him,_ Murdoc admonished himself. That, combined with the grief 2D clearly felt, added insult to injury.

“ _Anyway..._ ” Murdoc blurted out loud to banish his disturbing thoughts, trying to mask his discomfort as he looked around the room for some semblance of a solution to 2D’s sorrow. He glanced over at a large rectangular box, assuming it was the keyboard that 2D and his father had built back in 1988. Opening it up was out of the question; it would only make 2D more upset.

Murdoc found the answer when he peered inside another box. He saw a Polaroid photo of a preteen Stuart hanging out with his friends in his backyard, a smug expression on his face as a cigarette sat between his lips.

Murdoc laughed nervously as he picked up the picture, coming up to 2D and thrusting it in front of him. “Get a load of this. You look like a right cunt.”

2D wiped away the last bit of tears in his eyes, snickering gently as he examined the photo. “Yeah… but not as much as you must have been as a 12 year old,” both men shared a small, knowing grin, “I never got my hands on anyone’s lunch money, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Murdoc pointed at the eye that wasn’t engulfed by Stuart’s fringe. “Probably because you didn’t have the depth perception to steal from other rugrats, Cyclops.”

The corners of 2D’s lips threatened to turn upward. “If you’re gonna pick on me, at least let it be my current self,” he chided, “I was young and reckless back then, I didn’t think about the consequences of seeing from only one eye all the time.”

Murdoc smirked and set the photo down onto the floor. He walked away to pick up a pile of other loose photos from the same box. The first one in the stack depicted a teenage Stuart standing next to a girl with long blonde hair. They were posing in front of the punch bowl at a Year 8 school disco. There was so much gel in Stuart’s hair that parts of it looked white from the camera flash.

“Jesus Christ,” Murdoc laughed, which made 2D feel concerned. He came up next to the other man, wincing when he saw the source of Murdoc’s amusement.

2D sighed, looking away from the picture. “I don’t even know why I took these photos home,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. Still, he had to chuckle to himself.

Murdoc kept his eyes on the photo, still entertained. “You never told me there was another girl before me,” he jested.

2D looked at Murdoc and crossed his arms. “There’ve been plenty,” he replied, more to get a reaction out of the man than anything else.

Murdoc raised a brow, glancing sidelong at 2D. “Oh, is that so?”

He skimmed through a couple more photos. One of Stuart playing Space Invaders at 13, the next one of him splashing in Margate waters at 15, and another of him tinkering around on a Casio Mt-500 at 18.

2D watched as Murdoc went through the pictures, the memories behind them hitting him like a brick. When Murdoc stopped on a photo of 2D and Paula holding hands on a worn-out leather couch back at Kong, the memories hit 2D like a freight train.

“Yeah,” 2D replied in a vaguely scornful tone, his arms still folded across his chest, “like her. You might have seen her around before.”

It felt like a test for repentance. Murdoc didn’t protest as 2D took the pile of photos from him. He watched as 2D shuffled to another photo of him holding Paula from behind while she tuned her guitar. 2D frowned as he stared at the picture for a moment. It stung Murdoc a fraction as much as it did 2D.

2D turned over to the next photo, one that his mother had taken of him on his first day at Uncle Norm’s. He stood right in front of the store and wore a suit, a strained smile on his face. It was obvious he had pulled through the photo just for his mum’s sake.

“My first day on the job,” 2D muttered to himself, looking at the picture up close. He wiped the thin layer of dust off of it with his hand. It had been awhile since he had last seen it. It had been even longer since he last had blue eyes.

Murdoc leaned in and eyed the decades-old photo. That face looked so familiar, but it wasn’t smiling when he had first seen it.

Murdoc quickly looked away from the picture. _I didn’t do it on purpose_ , he tried to reassure himself.

He was back in the Astra with his mates again, driving 130kmph towards Uncle Norm’s. The passengers cheered Murdoc on as he floored the gas pedal. Everyone in the car whooped as the brick building disintegrated according to plan. Inside the store, three men stared bug-eyed at the car with their mouths agape. Two of them fled before they could get hit, but one was too stunned to make a move. The front bumper of the car crashed right between the young man’s eyes. Murdoc was met with a punch in the face from the airbags.

He stood frozen in place as 2D continued to examine the picture. _I didn’t know he would be standing there._

Murdoc frantically clawed at the airbags before scampering out of the wrecked car. His bandmates bailed on him before they could get caught. He kept his distance from the cloud of smoke that blew from the hood, kneeling by the stranger he ran over. The man had fallen down flat on his back, his face turned to the side as blood rapidly poured from his right eye. It pooled down by his shoulder, staining his blue suit that came fresh out of the dry cleaners just yesterday. Murdoc fell into a frenzied laughter. The horrified gasps and shouts of the spared shoppers were barely audible to him.

His palms felt clammy as he remained shock still. _It’s not funny to me anymore._

Numerous cop cars, ambulances, detectives, and passersby circled around the unconscious body in a matter of fifteen minutes. The blood from the man’s eye had trailed down to Murdoc’s jeans. It was thick and cold. He wiped it off on his dirty grey shirt, but fresh blood from the man’s eye soaked through Murdoc’s jeans and dampened his knees.

“ _Stop!_ ” Murdoc shouted, turning his head to the side and closing his eyes. “Enough with the sodding photos!”

He cowered away from 2D, covering his head and grabbing at his hair as he buried his face into his arms. Murdoc could still feel the blood on his palms. He jerked them away from his hair so the substance wouldn’t congeal.

2D furrowed his brows and set the stack of photos aside. He had an idea of what was going on, but he didn’t know how to help—or _if_ he should help.

He scooted closer to Murdoc and watched as the man seemed to wither away, wondering if he would say anything else. 2D’s heart pounded as Murdoc began to cry.

“You...” Murdoc’s tone was solemn as he looked up at 2D, “You should be coming home from work right now. Either from the mechanic shop, or the fairgrounds you inherited from your father,” his voice wavered no matter how much he tried to control it.

2D furrowed his brows as he stared at Murdoc. He saw where this was going, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“You’re starving after a long day,” Murdoc wiped his eyes, “You’re in luck, because you’re welcomed by the scent of Shepherd’s Pie baking in the oven. And waiting for you at the dinner table would be your loving wife and kids,” he almost choked on the last few words.

Murdoc lowered his head, his hands trembling relentlessly. 2D felt sick to his stomach. “Supper was made from scratch by the woman you settled down for. Maybe you met her at Uncle Norm’s or the dodgems, or she’s a peer from school you reconnected with,” Murdoc continued, his voice gradually becoming more pinched.

“After tucking your kids into bed, you’d ring your mum or one of your mates. You’d ask them how they’re doing and make plans to have lunch with them in Soho on the weekend,” 2D was feeling cross at this point, furrowing his brows at Murdoc, “Once you’ve scheduled a date and time, you’d relax on the couch with a cold beer and reruns of Gilmore—”

“ _Stop_ , Murdoc!” 2D raised his voice over Murdoc’s. “Cut it out already!”

Murdoc flinched at 2D’s yelling and stayed quiet as tears stained his sleeve. 2D looked away, the pain in his stomach threatening to make him double over. He knew Murdoc was inconsolable unless if he willingly sought out help—which only happened when he had a particularly bad acid flashback or there was way too much rum in his system.

2D left Murdoc to his own devices, reluctant to settle the man’s nerves when he wasn’t feeling well himself. To keep his mind off the situation, he stacked the boxes of old stuff inside his overflowing closet. Although it kept 2D occupied, Murdoc’s crying was contagious. A few tears slid down 2D’s cheeks as he cleaned up his room. He thought about how nice it would be if they were ordinary enough to get hitched, eat supper together in the evenings, and unwind on the couch every night to relax with TV and enjoy each other’s company.

When 2D found nothing else to spruce up within the confines of his room, he sat back down next to Murdoc. The man finally lifted his head up, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He stared into space, lacking the guts to make eye contact with the man who held his regrets.

2D stared at the bed sheets, his knees resting against his chest. He never realized how much lint had infested his blankets. He picked at the pieces, more as a nervous tic than to have a tidy environment for once.

2D rolled a ball of lint between his index finger and thumb before flicking it away, sighing to ease the tension in his body. “I tell myself I shouldn’t dwell too much on the bad,” he murmured. A strong draft blew in from the window, sending a shiver down to his core.

Murdoc wished it was simple to not obsess over Sebastian, Hannibal, the diner lady, a giant pink heap of plastic, his neglected daughter’s near-death experience, or blood pouring down a 19 year old sales clerk’s eye.

“Shouldn’t?” Murdoc began hesitantly, licking his lips as he picked the lint from 2D’s blanket too. “... Or won’t?”

2D pinched at and fidgeted with the stained bottom sheet. It hadn’t been washed in almost a year. “Shouldn’t,” 2D replied quietly, “But I’m trying to get to won’t.”

Murdoc ran a hand through his hair. He looked all around the room. On the walls were cracks above the doorway that hadn’t been repaired, writing and scribbles that 2D had made in crayon, and a torn-up picture of Murdoc that had a couple of darts thrown on his face. Murdoc understood why 2D was stuck at “shouldn’t”.

Without a word, 2D scooted closer towards him. He removed Murdoc’s hand from his greasy hair, combing his overlong fingers through it in a soothing, yet apprehensive fashion.

He stared out the window as he idly pet Murdoc’s hair. The clouds looked greyer than they had earlier. There was virtually no sunlight. A few raindrops had speckled the glass.

Murdoc’s heart raced, and he couldn’t tell whether it was from 2D’s affection or from anxiety.

He glanced over at the clock. The second hand ticked, and ticked, and ticked. Both hands on the clock never went backwards. They only moved forward, but they carried the risk of stopping at any given moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, to lighten the mood, let me just say that the Devo frisbee from 1990 is a real actual thing. They've even got tiny bouncy balls and rubber coin purses for merch. Go look it up. It's glorious. When will your faves ever.  
> Anyway, feel free to drop me a line on my Tumblr: @sadistsatanist666!


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